Insecurities
by renegadewriter8
Summary: Fourth in the Masked Verse / A LJ P&J Community September 2011 Anniversary Challenge. Prompt: Insecurities / Prowl seems troubled and is avoiding everyone. Can Jazz find out why? Will he like the answers he finds?


Written for the 2011 livejournal prowlxjazz anniversary challenge.

Prompt: Insecurities

* * *

><p>Something was wrong.<p>

It had been obvious to everyone for awhile. Even to those that didn't know of Prowl's true origins. To the mechs that only knew Prowl as their SIC, he had grown colder and even more of an aft, snapping at everyone for no reason at all.

But everyone associated this due to the increase in Decepticon activity. The Autobots had been forced to fight a number of battles, with next to no cooling period in between. Mission after mission was handed out, less and less bots coming back. They assumed it was because of this that their SIC was acting as he was, even though the statement always held a hint of doubt.

For Prowl's small family, the youngling had been distant, avoiding _them_ specifically, even going as far as _lying_ about being busy or not having the time to speak to them. When they managed to talk to him, he would snap at them, or stick to very short and to the point sentences. Yes the recent events might have something to do with this, but they highly doubted it.

Something must seriously be troubling Prowl, and it worried them.

They had all tried to talk to him, but the more they tried the more Prowl seemed to disappear and withdraw into himself. It got to the point where Ratchet and Optimus refused to push any further, afraid that they were doing only more damage. Prowl would talk to them when he was ready.

Bluestreak was beside himself with worry. He had frantically told them that his brother had blocked their bond, something Prowl had never done outside of missions. It had left the young gunner distressed and hurt, even more when the youngling outright refused to talk to him.

Jazz had tried on several occasions to start a conversation about anything: the twins' new prank, the new recruits, gossip; anything to just get him to talk! But it had proved futile. Prowl simply did not want to talk to any of them, much less tell them what was going on in his processor.

Jazz didn't need the seeker programming screaming at him to know that the youngling sitting across from him in the meeting room was deeply troubled about something. The question though, was what?

"How are we with the new strike mission?" Optimus asked his SIC.

"It's ready." The reply was dry, almost snapped, as Prowl handed the plans to Optimus, never once directly meeting his optics.

Prime was taken aback, but he would not address the youngling's behavior in public. He had no doubt it would makes things worse.

"Jazz?" He turned to his TIC instead. "Any new intel on the Decepticon's plans?"

Sitting straighter, Jazz turned his head to face Prime, his optics under his visor never leaving the youngling.

Prowl sat straight in his chair, going over his notes and data he had been provided. While to the other officers he was just being Prowl the SIC, to Jazz, he seemed to be ignoring everyone in the room.

"Yeah, 'Raj got us some very good intel. Well, it's grim but we might be able ta hit them hard with what he found." He said shrugging.

"Hmm, I see. Prowl." The way the youngling's frame tensed, and the sudden hostility in his posture shocked both of them. The others weren't aware of the change, but a quick glance at Ratchet verified that the medic had noticed as well.

Prime hesitated.

"I need you to analyze this information. We need to know what we're up against and the best way to deal with their new weapons."

Prowl mumbled something.

"What was that?" Prime demanded, voice hard and optics piercing.

"I said, as you command. _Sir_."

This time, the other officers did notice the complete wrongness of Prowl's actions. His words had been almost mocking, full of an unexplained anger.

Without another word, the tactician got up and left, datapads under his arm.

"The frag is wrong with 'im?" Grumbled Ironhide crossing his arms.

"I wonder if he's not feeling well." Wheeljack suggested looking worried.

"Maybe he's a Decepticon in disguise!" Yelled Red Alert, glitch acting up.

As the officer's pondered what could be the cause of their SIC's strange behavior, Jazz shared a look with both Optimus and Ratchet. They nodded and Jazz silently left the room, tracking down the youngling to his office.

**00000000000000000**

"What's wrong with ya?" He demanded as soon as he entered the office. He didn't bother being nice. No, they had tried that and it failed. Now, he wanted answers and he wanted them _now_.

He felt somewhat smug at the startled expression on Prowl's faceplates at his sudden entrance.

"Jazz. You were not given permission to enter." He said recovering quickly.

"Frag that Prowl! I wanna know what's wrong! Ya've been disrespectful, avoiding us, and plain out being an aft! You're acting like a temperamental youngling!"

Prowl's frame tensed and he shot Jazz a deathly glare.

"Really? I thought you and Bluestreak _wanted_ me to act according to what I _really_ am." He sneered.

Realizing what he had said, Jazz's anger went down a notch. He brought his servos up in a placating manner, letting his frame relax.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked softly. "Do ya need ta talk? Ah can-"

Prowl slammed the data-pad in his servo on the desk, hard enough to crack the screen.

"Why is everyone asking me the same thing!?" He demanded, voice raised and full of exasperation and anger. "If I want to talk with someone, about _anything_, I will! Yet I don't! So obviously I _don't_ want to talk about it!"

"It can help-"

"Well it won't! It's stupid anyway, you wouldn't understand."

Now Jazz's anger returned full force.

"What the frag Prowl why're ya acting like this!? Why won't ya talk ta us!? We wanna help ya! Ya can't keep behaving like this! Ya snapped at Optimus fer Primus' sake! Yer're his SIC, ya can't just act like that!"

"Right, because that's all any of you care about! That I perform my duty perfectly! That my highly advanced logic center and battle computer do their job and win this war! Not like I'm worth more than that!"

Both mech's tensed at the resigned and venomously spoken words. Both looked at each other with horror in their optics; Prowl for giving into his dark thoughts and involuntarily spitting what had been troubling him for so many orns. Jazz, for the words themselves, the self-doubt in the tactician's tone, the implications made of them, that they only saw a tool in the youngling, comparing them to Scheme.

"What did ya just say?" The saboteur demanded, voice dangerous and low. He hoped, he _prayed_ he had heard wrong.

"Nothing." Prowl answered through gritted denta in an equally dangerous tone; a warning to let it go.

"Whoa whoa whoa! That was _not_ nothing! Ya think we're taking advantage of ya!?" Cried Jazz in horror and hurt. "That we're _using _ya?"

The tactician wilted a bit, looking anywhere but at Jazz. "I told you it was stupid." He muttered.

"Yer're damn right it's stupid!" Yelled Jazz in outrage, banging a fist on the desk. "How could ya think we would _ever_ use ya as a tool!? We're yer family!"

"_That_, means _nothing_ and you know it!" Seethed Prowl, suddenly standing up and glaring at the saboteur, doorwings high.

Jazz's optics narrowed. He placed both servos on the desk, leaning forward to be as close as possible to Prowl, his faceplates serious, almost deadly.

"Don't ya _ever_ compare us ta Scheme. _You_ know that we are _nothing_ like him!" He hissed.

Both mechs held each other's gaze, none willing to lose this fight. The seeker programming was in turmoil, reprimanding Jazz for being so threatening and hard on the obviously conflicted youngling, yet also demanding him to destroy such thoughts, the doubts an enemy toward the youngling's well-being, to their family structure.

"I don't want to fight Jazz." Prowl finally said after a few tense moments of silence. He wilted back into his chair. "I know, I _know_ deep down that none of you are anything like Scheme. I _know_ you have never seen me as a tool. I know this I really do but, the mere thought haunts me, and each joor the doubt grows. The Decepticons have our troops running all over Cybertron, there's no time to rest and everyone is looking at me for a plan, constantly giving me data to analyze, demanding my presence at battles to find the best way to win…. it has fed this doubt, and left me feeling used." He let out a mirthless laugh. "Logically, such thoughts shouldn't even cross my processor, after everything all of you have done for me." He shook his head in self-loathing. "But this has plagued me for orns and I can't find a way to get rid of it."

"Ya could have come ta us Prowler, we would have chased yer fears and doubts away, ya know that." Jazz said, his own anger vanishing at the youngling's confession, tone soft yet pleading; pleading for Prowl to see that he always had them there to hold him, help him through the unknown emotions, any fearful doubts that dared trouble him.

But the tactician was already shaking his head. "I couldn't. I know my words and implications have hurt you deeply Jazz. Imagine what it would do to Bluestreak, to Optimus! He's the one that ultimately has the last say in what I do. I- I could not hurt any of you like that. But I failed at that." He turned an anguished look at the saboteur. "I've hurt you. And I'm sorry. I thought I could handle this myself. I already knew I was in error, but I could never chase the last strings of doubt away from my spark."

Jazz sighed, rounding the desk to reach the youngling's side. Prowl lowered his optics, not daring to see the hurt and disappointment Jazz's optics were sure to hold.

"Hey, " He called, a servo gently grasping his chin. Prowl looked up, optics sad. "Yer right, it hurt ta see ya doubt us, doubt meh. But Ah also understand. We forget yer're a youngling sometimes Prowler, and part of being a youngling is having all these confusing and illogical thoughts."

"Really?" Prowl asked, voice begging Jazz for the truth.

"Really." The saboteur gave a small chuckle. "It's normal fer younglings ta feel insecure Prowl, heck Ah ran away when Ah was a youngling cause Ah thought mah creators didn't love meh! It was stupid of meh ta think that, but that doubt had latched itself onto mah spark and Ah believed in it."

The youngling looked at him with wide, innocent, and shocked optics. "You did?" He asked in wonder. He would have never imagined Jazz having done such a thing, it lightened his spark to know that such thoughts and actions were normal for someone his age.

Jazz grinned. "Sure did! Mah carrier kissed da life outta meh when they found me. Told meh they both loved meh and then grounded meh fer life!" He trailed off laughing at the memories. Prowl smiled at the thought of the usually hyper mech locked in a room for joors; it must have driven Jazz crazy with boredom!

The Praxian pressed his head to Jazz's abdominal plates, wrapping his arms around Jazz's waist as the saboteur wrapped his own around the youngling's shoulders, a servo running softly over the SIC's helm.

"Now, no more talk of being used. Ya will _never_ be used and whoever tries will be painfully ripped apart." Prowl believed him, specially with the dark and threatening tone Jazz used, the arms around his shoulders tightening protectively.

"Thank you Jazz. I can always count on you. Thank you, really."

"Anytime Prowler. In the future, share these doubts with us, don't let them fester, it'll only hurt ya more and make us worry."

Prowl hummed in agreement, before suddenly leaning back, looking up at Jazz with worried optics.

"What do I tell the others? I- I would rather this be kept between us. I've treated all of you badly in my brooding, I've even hurt Bluestreak by chasing him out of our bond." He lamented. "How do I approach him now? Do I act like nothing happened? He'll want answers, and I don't wish to distress him with my thoughts. You've helped get rid of this ridiculous notion, and I would like to spare the others from the pain such doubts will cause."

Jazz hmm'ed pensively. "They have a right ta know Pro-"

"No! Please Jazz this was the main reason I did not go to any of you! Please I cannot bear hurting anyone! I'm alright now, really. I won't avoid anyone anymore and behave accordingly."

Jazz sighed but gave in.

"Alright Prowler. Ah won't say a thing, but ya got ta apologize fer yer behavior and fer Primus' sake talk ta Bluestreak will ya? He's been sulking and moping and just being outright pathetic. I swear sometimes Ah think he's the younger brother!"

Prowl smiled, leaning back into into Jazz.

"I will. Thank you."

**0000000000**

"So, you going to share what was wrong with him?" Ratchet asked seriously. Optimus, Jazz and the medic were sitting in the rec. room, each with a cube of high-grade. Their table was in a dark corner where they could see everyone in the room.

Prowl had gone to each of them personally to apologize, and promised he was alright, a promise they only took seriously once Jazz's confirmed it. But the youngling had refused to tell them what had been troubling him.

"Nope. Made a deal with Prowl. He's really alright now Ratch, and trust meh, ya don't want ta know what was going on through his processor. He's just going through a phase."

"A phase." Ratchet deadpanned. He turned to look at the table across the room, where Bluestreak was clinging to Prowl talking non-stop.

"Yup. Gotta remember he's a youngling. Just had some youngling insecurities he was trying ta deal with on his own. He's alright now and promised ta come ta us if he ever had any insecurities in the future."

Optimus took a sip from his cube before talking. "I did see an obvious change and like a great burden had been lifted off his shoulders when he came to apologize to me. If you say he's alright I believe you." He said smiling. "And I believe it would be wise not to pester him about what was bothering him." The last was directed at the medic, who gave an indignant huff.

"Fine, I won't ask him a thing but next time he snaps at me like he did earlier this orn, he's scarp!"

Jazz chuckled. "Oh don't worry Ah don't think anything as grave as what he told me will ever happen again."

Taking quick glance to his surroundings, he raised his cube, softly whispering. "Ta younglings."

"To younglings." They chorused just as softly.


End file.
